Save Me
by twacorbies
Summary: A prequel to Superman Returns. Not connected to the original Superman movies, this is my own interpretation of how Lois and Superman fell in love, and what led Lois to Richard.


Come slowly, Eden  
Lips unused to thee.  
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,  
As the fainting bee,  
Reaching late his flower  
Emily Dickenson

It was the rage in his eyes that was the most terrifying. She'd seen him fight before, but she'd never been afraid. Not of _him_. She wanted to shut her eyes, pretend this wasn't happening, but she couldn't look away.

It was strange to see Superman's hair damp with sweat, to see bruises forming along his jaw and over his knuckles. But Zod was so much worse. She watched in horror—and not a little satisfaction—as Superman threw him to the ground again and again. Even once he was unconscious, his blows continued until Zod was bleeding and broken. The once all-powerful super villain was little more than a mangled pulp and, Lois realized, he probably wouldn't wake up. All at once she felt dizzyingly ill.

"Superman, stop!" she covered her eyes trying hard not to gag on her own saliva; trying to push the image of Zod's body from her mind.

Lois wasn't sure what happened next. She didn't remember Superman saying anything and she later she wondered what he had done with Zod's body, but didn't ask for fear of the answer. She had been held hostage for three days, she _thought_ but couldn't be sure. Her clothes were filthy and smelled foul; partly from her own sweat and partly from the dank room. Her hair hung in limp, greasy strands. She was hungry and thirsty and so tired.

Perhaps she fell asleep when he lifted her, finally knowing she was safe and could close her eyes. When she woke she was in her bathroom; cradled in Superman's lap as he ran her a hot bath. He looked down at her and she felt a zip lock bag of ice pressed gently to her cheekbone, where a single slap from Zod's hand had nearly cracked her skull. Her thoughts were hazy and she fumbled with swollen fingers trying to unbutton her blouse.

"Here, let me help you," he said. He seemed a bit embarrassed, but perhaps it was her imagination.

"Thanks," she gave an exhausted chuckle. He smiled in return, helping her up so that she was standing on her own. She didn't topple over so he moved to leave.

"I'll just be right outside, ok?"

"Ok…sure," she brushed at her hair as he closed the bathroom door softly. Her blouse slid off her arms easily enough, but getting her bra off was another matter. She couldn't reach the middle of her back to unhook it, her shoulder was so sore. She bit her lip and slid the straps off so that she could pull it down and step out of it. She gritted her teeth in agony as she tugged at it. Although, luckily, her skirt and underwear were easier. Climbing into the hot water was bliss itself. Slipping under so that the scalding heat covered her head, she tried to wash the entire ordeal away. There wasn't enough shampoo and soap in the world, though. Safe and warm in her own house, with Superman as her very own bodyguard, Lois' hands shook with terror.

Rinsed and clean, she pulled the bath plug, and stood to begin drying herself off; stepping onto the bathmat. Dizziness overcame her suddenly and she slipped; feet flying out from under her. The noise was much louder than she would have guessed, as she seemed to have bumped a few things onto the floor. There was a loud knock as Superman opened the door.

"Is everything ok?" he looked worried.

"Yes, I'm fine," she tried to wrap the towel around her quickly, to get to her feet. His arms reached out to catch her, saving her from further physical bruising.

"Look, thank you, but really, I'm fine," she felt a sickening combination of embarrassment and dread. She wanted him to stay so badly, but at the same time was desperate for him to just get out and leave her be. Couldn't bear for him to see her like this, so sickeningly fragile and pathetic.

"Hey," he said. She tried to push him away gently, so that he'd get the message without hurting his feelings. Her towel was slipping further and, while the prospect of Superman seeing her naked was usually a more positive concept, at this moment she felt horrified and gripped it more tightly round her.

He seemed to understand and reached behind the bathroom door to retrieve her robe, draping it over her shoulders so she could put it on.

"Thanks," she said again, "I think I'm going to put some clothes on," she tried to smile as she looked at him and then, as quickly as she could manage, moved past him into her bedroom.

Pajamas were easy enough, but she was totally overwhelmed by the prospect of brushing and drying her sopping wet hair. She collapsed onto the corner of her large bed; the comforter felt cold through her nightgown. She raised her good arm and pressed her hand to the back of her neck, sighing. She kept thinking she should just get up and find her blow dryer, but she couldn't move. Every time she blinked, there was Zod. She flinched at imaginary blows; cringed at imaginary threats. Her heart thundered in her chest; she could hardly breathe.

Maybe he could hear the hot tears as they splashed down her cheeks, maybe she took five minutes too long to come out, but suddenly there he was. Big, strong, and perfect, he wrapped her up in his arms. He didn't say a word, didn't shush her or tell her it was ok. Just cupped her face in his warm hands and wiped her tears away, once her eerily quiet sobs had subsided into childish hiccups.

"My hair's getting your suit all wet," she said finally. His eyes crinkled into a smile that said she was being absurd.

"Do you really think I'm more worried about damp clothes than I am about you?" he picked up her towel from the floor and gently wrapped it around the ends of her hair to squeeze out the excess water. Then he walked her into the bathroom and waited as she fumbled around for her dryer, plugging it in and turning it on. Leading her over to the toilet he had her sit down on the closed lid. He turned the heat up on high, massaging her scalp with his fingers as he lifted the layers to dry each strand. Setting the dryer down, grabbed her brush and gently combed out her hair until it lay glistening over her shoulders in long rivulets.

Next thing she knew she was being tucked into bed. The room was dim and the bed was cold. She felt a sudden panic as he moved to leave her.

"Please don't go," she sat up quickly, her words tinged with desperation.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right outside," he was so calm, so soothing in his tone, but he didn't seem to understand.

"No, I mean…stay here?" somehow her words came out in a question. He didn't answer, but unhooked his cape from his shoulders resting it over the back of her desk chair. Next he sat down on the edge of her bed, slipping off his boots. She remained sitting up; as Superman lay down on top of the comforter, arm beneath his head, facing her.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered again as he touched her arm to reassure her. She nodded, sinking back down under the slowly warming sheets. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her mind. Most of her terror was gone, he was so near. But she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't how this was supposed to happen. That Superman was in her bedroom, in her bed, and that it should be so much more thrilling. She rolled over so that her back was to him, trying to give the appearance of sleep. She could feel the inhuman heat of him radiating through the blankets, even more so when he leaned closer and rested his hand on her elbow. Heard him whisper, after he thought she was asleep, that he loved her.

When she did fall asleep, she was abruptly back in the dank closet. Had it all been a hallucination? What had Zod given her that could make her imagine something so sweet and—what was that noise? There was a terrible banging and she could hear Zod's maniacal laugh. God, she had thought she was finally safe, but here he was back. Panic rose in her chest and started to scream, "get me out of here! Get me out! Oh god, please, I have to get out of here. Superman, I need you!" she had the feeling of the ground falling out from under her and she grasped around for something to hold on to.

"Lois, hey, shshshshshshsh…hey it's ok. It's only a nightmare," the back of a hand brushed her temple as she opened her eyes. Her face felt itchy and tight from crying in her sleep. Superman looked concerned, "You're ok, I'm here, it isn't real." She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, as he continued to murmur into her ear.

"Oh god, I was so frightened," she said, "I didn't know…I thought maybe—"

"Hey," he sat up against the headboard and drew her into his lap, "I would _never_—" she saw a look of fiery rage flash over his face, but it was gone in an instant. He was once again all sweet whispers, "I would never let _anyone_ hurt you. I would never _not_ find you, and I will never leave you," he held her gaze for moment as she nodded her head. He kissed her forehead and let his cheek rest against her hair.

They were quiet then, as she lay against him fingering his hand. Bruised knuckles had disappeared. Scratches and scrapes were gone. She ran her thumb over his palm, amazed. Amazed not only that he healed so quickly, but that someone so miraculous could exist and that this person was in love with her. It was something out of a story, an archetypal myth, that you only ever wished could be real. Ordinary love was hard enough to come by, falling in love with a god only ever resulted in Greek tragedy. And yet, here he was eyes, lips, chest; and arms holding her close. He kissed her cheek, proving once again that it wasn't all a cruel fantasy. She turned her face upward so that when he bent to kiss her again his lips landed on hers. He paused, she thought, with surprise. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, but he didn't move. She frowned, starting to pull away, confused. But then he seemed to let whatever he was thinking go, pulling her back from where she had moved away, lips finding hers. His hands slid up her back pressing against her, trying to mold her into him. She stiffened and broke away,

"Ooh," she grimaced, "careful."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," he looked mortified as he reached out to touch her shoulder, but pulled his hand back, pressing his lips together with regret.

"Oh well, no big deal, we'll try again," she smiled and moved to kiss him again, but he retreated.

"What is it, what's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't think this is such a good idea. I should go."

"What—" The words were in her mouth, but she remained silent. Just kept turning one thought over and over in her mind, _did this mean that they'd never—not ever? _

When she looked up he was gone. All of the warmth felt drained from the room, but at the same time she felt too hot, stifled. Twisting and turning, she couldn't get comfortable. She could still feel his hands, taste his lips. After what seemed like an age, she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning she got ready as usual, but had an egg with her coffee instead of going without breakfast. It wasn't that she was hungry, but she knew she should have been after going without for so long. It was bright and sunny and warm, but she felt a heaviness about her. There was a fourteen year old girl inside her that wanted to fling herself across the bed and cry, but her twenty seven year old cynic self wouldn't let her.

When she got to work the entirety of the staff, it seemed, crowded around her, wanting to know if she was okay, what had happened to Zod, and updating her on the most current news report that she could hear on the television as they spoke. When Perry saw her though, he flew into a rage.

"What are you doing here Lane, are you out of your mind? You should be in a hospital, you look like hell!"

"Thanks chief," she said raising an eyebrow.

"I'm dead serious, I don't want to see you here for at least a week, maybe two. Clark!" Perry White spun around scanning the room for Clark Kent.

"Um—here sir," Clark said as Perry stumbled right into him.

"Why can't anyone watch where they're going?" Perry's voice was exasperated. "Clark, take Lois home," he said, then turned to Lois, "Coming into work when you've been held hostage for almost four days is asinine. What's the matter with you!" he then walked away shouting instructions as he went, "Clark, deal with this!"

"He is right you know—uh Lois. Coming into work after such an ordeal—"

"Don't worry about me Clark, I'm fine." She cut him off and started to walk away, muttering to herself. "Sexually frustrated and apparently out of a job, but ya know, other than that, I'm _perfect_." She suddenly realized that Clark was walking along with her, "Oh, and apparently blurting out inappropriate information to random coworkers, fantastic. Listen Clark, I don't care what Perry said, I don't need a babysitter. Have a nice afternoon." She turned on her heal, escaping out the revolving doors before he could reply, and headed home.

"You know you could at least stop by and say hello!" Lois shouted from her balcony. She could see him sailing past, off to save the world. It wasn't obvious at _all_ that he was stalking her. Hearing her, he turned, stopping in mid-flight. He didn't say anything at first, just hovered, with a sheepish look on his face.

"Good evening, Lois."

"Oh, don't 'good evening Lois' me, I knew you were there the whole time," she turned on her heel walking into her house, hoping this tactic would work—that he would follow. He did.

"How've you been?"

"I don't know, how have I been?"

"I'm sorry, I suppose, well, stalking is rather rude, um—"

"Well, so long as we can agree that that's what you're doing and you don't try and say you were saving kittens or something," she smiled in spite of herself.

"No," he chuckled, "no kittens today."

"Oh, so there have been kittens in the past?" she moved towards him.

"I have saved the occasional kitten," he admitted, somewhat abashedly.

"Was there a kitten last night?" she took a step closer.

"No, not last night."

"What about the night before that?" she was barely a foot away from him now.

"No—" he blushed.

"And the night before that?" she was inches from him now.

"So, you've known the whole time?"

"Uh huh, what about the night—" she looked him straight in the eye as she spoke, her lips barely a breath from his, "before that?" she didn't wait for him to answer before pressing her mouth to his. She was tired of waiting around on balconies and roofs. She wanted to have something for herself for once.

But it was like last time, he stayed so still. More than any human could. He didn't even breathe. It was like he had stepped out of time and froze there. She pulled away, slowly, not understanding. When she could still feel the imprint of his hands every time she closed her eyes, still taste the salt of his skin……it was incomprehensible to her, like he'd become a completely different person. Powerful confident god-like Superman had been replaced by this stoic stranger.

"Did I—did I do something?" she could hear the hurt in her voice, god how she hated it.

"I don't want to hurt you," she could hear his words, but his face was in shadow. She still didn't understand.

"Don't worry, my shoulder's fine—honestly, if that's what you're worried about. I was fine the other night. I don't see," she bit her lip, "I—why did you leave?" Even in the darkness she could see his face fall.

"Oh god, Lois."

"And now? What happens now? I mean, my shoulder's fine. I'm fine. Are you really that worried about a bruise?"

"No, it's more than that."

"You don't—" she stopped unsure of how to finish her thought, "You don't want—me?"

"You have no idea how much I want you," he fingered her hair, letting his thumb trace her jaw, smoothing over her lips. "I could really _hurt_ you," he crossed his arms, visibly distressed. "Do you know I could suck the air right out of your lungs, crush the life out of you—without even straining myself?" he gave a heavy sigh.

"What?" she gave a small laugh.

"I'm serious."

"I know you are," she reached out taking hold of him so his hands held hers. "All this worry," she slid in closer so she almost leaned against him. Then, releasing one hand she fingered the 'S' of his suit. "All this concern….always perfect, always doing the right thing—_don't you ever get tired_?" her last words were soft as she tilted her head up to look in his eyes. He stared back at her unblinking, statue-still, but his eyes were sad like those of a child.

"You don't have to worry any more," she stood on tip toe and lay her cheek against his, "You can't hurt me." His arms came around her tentatively, like he wasn't sure how to go about it, and let his forehead rest on hers.

"Be here with me," she whispered. He smiled at last as her hand came to rest on the back of his neck and finally melted into her. His hands smoothed over the curve of her waist, kissed her jaw, behind her ear, the curve of her neck. It was like rain after a hot summer day, with water pouring from the sky only to rise as steam from the asphalt. You can't believe so much water could come from the sky and suddenly you're soaked through. She wanted to take this moment and tuck it away in a special place, like the ring her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday. Wrap it up in tissue paper so that she'd always have it and it could never be broken or lost and she could cherish it always. Because there was just something about being held by him, the way he said her name and kissed her. Like he was amazed she was real. It seemed impossible that someone could be so good and yet so sad and so lonely. She couldn't stand it; wanted to save him, to make him happy. Rock him against her and tell him that everything was okay now, that he didn't have to do it alone anymore. She broke away from him for a moment, but only long enough to lead him into her room.

"I'm not who you think, what I am. I'm not—" he stopped, looking uncomfortable.

"Hey," she shook her head as she fingered the clasps of his cape, "Okay, I would say something reassuring, but the truth is, I'm trying to figure out how to get you out of this." He blushed red as his cape, but smiled. God she loved his smile, it was like waking up with the sun on your face.

"Um, here—" he spoke without looking at her and of course had it off within seconds, folded and laid elegantly next to his boots.

"I think super-speed is an unfair advantage," Lois said, turning slightly. She felt incredibly self-conscious as she reached behind her back to unfasten the buttons of her sundress. One strap fell off her shoulder and then the other as she tried to reach back and her hair came across her face in a wave. The dress fell to the floor and she was left totally bare, brushing curls from her eyes. He stared at her, unmoving, until she blushed. He had a smile on his face she'd never seen before.

"You are the loveliest thing I've ever seen," he said. Then his hand was on her shoulder and he was brushing his lips over her cool skin. She sighed, running her hands down his back. She breathed in his solidity, his warmth and she wanted to tell him to stay with her forever. She stumbled and reached behind her to feel the corner of the bed, but before they could fall, she felt herself lifted ever so gently off the ground. They hovered in mid-air for less than a heartbeat, and then landed, feather light, upon her bed.

"I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed," he spoke quietly, "I've never—you're the only—" he stopped, looking down at her.

"No one as wonderful as you could ever be a disappointment. Stop thinking about what you're supposed to be, I don't want a superhero to make love to me, I want _you_," she stopped his mouth with her own, hoping to drive out whatever thoughts or fears he had.

His skin was hot against hers as he moved above her. If you could swim in an ocean of honey or float away on a current of honeysuckle scented air, it would have been nothing to this. He shook a little and she whispered something nonsensical. Of all the powers he had, she wished for once that he could read her mind and really feel what _she_ felt, being with him. She shuddered, twining her legs more tightly around him as he gasped, collapsing against her breast. She ran her fingers over his damp forehead.

"I love you," her words came out breathlessly. He raised his head and his eyes shone like starlight.

"I love _you_, Lois." His words were filled with such sincere surety she wanted to cry. He whispered it again into her ear and again. _I love you I love you I love you_. And she said it back ever time.

If Lois went to work the next day or the days following, it was only her physical presence that went. Someone else broke the big stories. Somehow her days were spent staring at the screen of her computer. Someone asked if she was sick and Perry finally told her to go home if she wasn't going to be useful. There was a knowing look in his eye, which might have annoyed her, had she noticed it. But her mind was on a rooftop somewhere and wondering how long it would take him to arrive if she called him loudly enough. In the evening he would ask her where she wanted to go and he'd take her there. Somehow, even though she knew both where and how they reached Bath or Tokyo or Milan, it was always a surprise. And she knew there could never be anything like falling asleep against his chest as they floated home above the clouds.

Thinking back on it all, years later, she wondered how much was illusion and how much just plain youth. Falling in love could be as heated as a forest fire and just as consuming. She'd loved people, but not this way. She'd had a high school sweetheart and lived with a man for three weeks in college. Most of the men she'd been with in her life, if you looked at them from the point of view of a writer, were nothing more than filler. Something to add to spice up the boring chapters of her life, nothing more. Superman had been something special. She knew she'd never love anyone the way she had loved him, not even Richard. With Superman she had given herself freely, without any real doubt or fear. She'd hidden nothing and assumed that he had done the same. She hadn't worried about the consequences, had just allowed herself to be carried away by the tide of it all. She didn't do that now. She had more pragmatic things to worry about. Her relationships were responsible and adult. She had a little boy, and his parentage didn't matter when she was giving him shots of adrenaline in the middle of the night to combat an asthma attack or rushing him to the hospital when a nose bleed wouldn't stop.

Sometimes, though, when she fell asleep she was right back at the end. Richard would be snoring and she'd get up and run to the shower, hoping she could turn on the water before her sobs overcame her. Then she'd stand under the stream of water, switching it to hot and then cold and then hot again. Trying desperately to make herself stop. Trying not to count how long they had been together. She hadn't followed the dates on the calendar when every night she found herself in a more exotic place. But his kisses had turned from tentatively sweet to devouring. There had been an alteration in their relationship; _that_ she could say with surety. For they had left off speaking about anything of any real importance. Something she didn't even notice until later.

She remembered her cries of delight as they flew over a heard of gazelles with their young and trailing her fingers through the water when they glided over a reflective pool; Carp peaking their heads up with surprise.

The happiness of those days, she tried to blot from her mind. Tried to forget the entirety of what they had had. Because the morning of his disappearance was the day part of her died.

She remembered their last night. His eyes had been hooded, but she'd ignored it. They hadn't flown anywhere; he'd preferred to stay in. When they'd made love he'd been…not _cold_. She couldn't say really what was so very different, but something was. He couldn't look her in the eye when she said she loved him. He'd held onto her like a life line, so tightly she gasped for air. But she'd let it go, and didn't ask. Didn't want to hear him confirm or deny.

When she woke in the morning her heart ached at the empty room, but she wasn't surprised. It took a while for the news to catch up with what she already knew; that Superman had gone for good. She didn't feel the loss the world felt. She didn't see a savior abandoning his people. All she knew when she lay awake at night was that he had abandoned her.

For a long time she would sit in the dark fingering a small piece of paper. The note he had left. She alternated between crinkling it and smoothing it out.

It was maybe a month later when she met Richard at a party. Her sarcasm was almost caustic. But somehow he'd been amusing and they'd both gotten so drunk they couldn't see straight. Waking up in his apartment that morning had been a nightmare. Even worse was meeting him for dinner three weeks later when she realized she was pregnant.

Holding the test in her hand she'd fallen onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor; her body wracked with sobs of despair. She had no idea who this child's father was. It was too close to tell.

She'd told Richard right away that there had been others and that she couldn't be sure if the baby was his. If he wanted a paternity test, that was more than fair.

What she remembered best was that he didn't even flinch when she spoke; only took hold of her hand and said _he didn't care_. Asked her out to dinner for the next night and the next night and the night after that. She allowed Richard to save her, instead of holding onto the memory of a man who couldn't be saved. Who, she now supposed, didn't want to be.

Eventually she let the whole matter fade into the darkest recesses of her mind. It was only on cold nights that memories resurfaced. When a fight with Richard got particularly ugly or Jason had a fever that just wouldn't go down. Then she'd feel the graininess of the paper in her hand, without even realizing how it had come to be there. His handwriting was barely legible.

_I love you_.

Now she couldn't even hear him say the words anymore when she read it. Wondering, not for the last time, why she had never even asked him his name.


End file.
